A/N: Sorry for the wait. Like, the really long wait. But I've had a lot on my plate lately, and I'll be trying to update more frequently from now on.

"Oh! Shit! Sorry!" I slammed the door shut and smirked to myself. It had been totally unintentional, but I had totally walked in on Clove changing. I lingered, hand on the doorknob, and was contemplating whether I should knock to apologise when she appeared before me.

It was strange. I couldn't really see her in the same light again. Fresh from a shower, her hair hung damp over her shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed. She was the same Clove I was scheming with, the same Clove I was irretrievably in love with. And it might be slightly perverted, but now I knew what lay under her baggy t-shirt, my thoughts were consumed by images of her when I'd walked in.

She just stood there, leaning against her door frame, looking at me expectantly. I only just realised that she was waiting for me to speak. "Sorry," I murmured again. "Bad timing."

As she moved so that she could fold her arms, I tried not to focus on the sweet smell of her shampoo that was wafting my way. "Maybe you should try knocking sometime," she suggested with no humour in her voice or her expression. Her eyes pierced into me, but they no longer struck that sense of fear within me that they might have yesterday.

"Won't happen again," I promised with a smile.

"Well, I should hope not. The last thing I need is a peeping tom entering unannounced."

Then, without another word, she stepped aside and signalled for me to go into her room. I sidestepped around her, giving her a wide berth. She was in one of her moods again. Over the past few days—which we had occupied by sneaking into one another's rooms to work out a strategy—I had gathered that Clove experienced terrible mood swings. There were brief moments where she'd share a laugh with me, or smile at me when we made eye contact. But I'd also learned that the littlest things could set her off. Okay, so maybe walking in on her when she was naked wasn't one of the little things, but sometimes he only had to look at her funny to earn a glare. He guessed it was to do with the Games. To avoid becoming too attached to anyone, she alienated them.

"How's it going with Glim-Glim?"

I made gagging gestures. "Are you sure this is the only way?"

She shrugged her perfect shoulders as she began to run a brush through her wet hair. "It's only for a little while. After the first few days she's history. Trust me."

"I do," I said without thinking. Shit. Now what's she gonna think of me? And here I was, thinking I was done with caring what she thought. Thinking I had reached more level ground when it came to her. Apparently not.

Much to my surprise, her one side of her mouth crooked in an adorable smirk, creating a large dimple on her cheek. Right then, right there, she looked like some sort of Disney princess as she leaned against the wall, running a brush through her hair and gazing at me modestly. I'd never seen her so vulnerable. "You do?" It was shocking, how honest those two words were.

I met her eye and made sure to not look away. "Of course." Even I could hear the hidden connotations of what I'd said, so God knows what she was thinking.

She let her hair fall and I found myself tensing to see what she'd do next. She had let down her walls. It was clear in her eyes. I saw emotion in them—which emotion, I couldn't be sure—and took that to mean that I'd struck a nerve somehow. She turned her gaze to the floor. "Why?" She was helpless all of a sudden, begging for answers to questions she didn't understand.

I didn't move my eyes from her face. "I always have." Shut up Cato, bloody hell, shut up, I was mentally pleading with myself. What he was saying was true—he'd trusted her always—but from what he'd seen of her, he had some serious reflection to do. If she knew that she was a weak spot for him, chances were she'd only use that to her advantage. And would he stop her? That was to be determined.

She stalked over to where he sat on the edge of her bed. Her eyebrows were furrowed together, and she had the most adorable crease on her forehead. Every aspect of her was perfect, and the closer she got, the more aware of that fact I became. She seemed almost uncertain of what she was doing, and I was taken off guard when she touched her lips to mine.

Her hands rested on my shoulders, sending shivers down my spine, but my mind was occupied with thoughts along the lines of ohmigod Clove freakin' Clayfer is freakin' kissing me! only to a much greater extent. I wasn't entirely sure what to do with myself. Did I pull her to me? Push her off? Raise a hand to her hair, her neck, her cheek? I was lost.

One thing that wasn't having any trouble operating without my brain power was my tongue. It caressed hers the same way hers was circling mine, and tingles rose within me at the thought of kissing Clove bloomin' Clayfer.

How many times had I imagined this scenario? How many times had I daydreamed about this moment? Only dreams, they'd seemed at the time. Nothing to raise his hopes or his expectations. Was he sure this wasn't a dream right now? That he wouldn't wake up soon with her more distant than ever?

She wasn't experiencing my shyness. Her arms folded around my neck, pulling me closer, and I finally lost every thought process that had been swimming in my head. I let my body speak for itself. That meant my hands raising to her waist, holding her tightly to make sure she was real.

Much to my disappointment and chagrin, she broke the kiss and rested her forehead on mine. She didn't seem as hot and excited as I was. To her, it looked like every other day. I was just a pawn. But did I care? That was to be determined.

"Do you still trust me?" she whispered.

I'd lost all cause for holding back. "With all my heart," I answered earnestly. Who cared if I bore my soul to her? Sooner or later, one of us would be dead. Her. She would be dead. I hated the thought of her lifeless body being transported from the arena, to see her with eyes more empty than usual and with no spring in her step. The very thought of her dying made me almost contemplate sacrificing myself, but the survivor's instinct that flowed in my family's genes prevented that from being so. I'd just have to make the most of this moment, where she was so perfect, so beyond my wildest dreams. I reached up to kiss her again, but she stood up straight and untangled herself from my arms.

I was left there, a sitting duck. "Clove?" I asked. It was alien to me, saying her name out loud. I'd said it plenty times in my head, yes, but I just loved the way it rolled off my tongue. "What's wrong?" I reached out to her, coiling my fingers around her skinny little wrist.

I was bordering on obsessive now. Why was I showing her how much this meant to me? I should be detaching myself from my emotions like she so often did, preparing myself for when I was the only one left. But did I really want to live in a world without Clove in it? After all, so much of the past few years had been devoted to my obsession with her. Without that to worry about, what the hell was I gonna do with my free time?

The next words she said were a punch to the gut for me. "Marvel's waiting for me."

The hurt washed over me, and I knew she saw it. She didn't reach out for me, though, or offer me any words of reassurance that things between her and Marvel were strictly business, so I took that as a sign that things between us were strictly business as well. "Can't it wait?" I asked pathetically, regretting it before I'd even said it.

"You should get to Glimmer," she told me before leaving me alone.

And just like that, my dreams had come true and been dashed in the space of ten minutes. This had to stop. I would no longer pine over Clove. She'd just use it against me.

And so, I made a pact with myself right then. No more Clove Clayfer. I had to focus on self-preservation.

So good riddance to all this let-others-kill-her crap. I'd do it. I'd slit her throat myself, and then I'd truly be separate from my emotions.

Just like Clove.